


when you touch me like this

by thesaddestboner



Series: in the shadows [12]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, Detroit Tigers, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Not!Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sometimes, Rick regrets agreeing to stay.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	when you touch me like this

**Author's Note:**

> This one is sadly never going to be finished. The idea was that Rick and Max didn't have sex when Rick came back and "acted" as his girlfriend after [I think I saw you in the shadows](http://archiveofourown.org/works/144616), and eventually they were going to start sleeping together again. But I gave up.
> 
> Hastily picked title from "It's All Coming Back To Me Now" by Céline Dion.
> 
> The brackets mean I meant to throw in filler later and never got around to it. Ohp.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

Sometimes, Rick regrets agreeing to stay.

It has nothing to do with Max, really. Max has been wonderful. He’s tried his hardest to make everything as easy and as painless for Rick as he can, but...

Rick really hates going to the games and sitting in the family section with the wives, girlfriends, and kids—and sometimes mistresses. He misses the dugout, the feel of the hard benches underneath him, the sticky concrete underfoot. He misses being able to stand up and narrowly miss slamming his head on the low dugout ceiling that wasn’t made for anyone over five foot eleven, apparently.

He just really misses his old life. He can still feel it there, painful remnants of it lingering, aching like a phantom limb. 

All of Max’s devotion and care can’t make that go away, no matter how hard he tries.

Rick packs a carry-on bag of his stuff and leaves it in the corner of the guest closet. He hasn’t made up his mind to leave—for all Rick knows, he might end up staying for good—but having the bag there comforts him at least for a little while.

-

Rick’s almost completely forgotten the carry-on bag when he comes into his bedroom with a hamper of laundry and Max is sitting on the end of Rick’s bed with the bag in his lap.

“What’s up?” Rick asks, setting the hamper down.

Max pats the bag in his lap. “Are you... are you leaving?”

Rick reaches into the hamper and pulls out a pair of mismatched socks. He frowns at them. “No. Why?”

“I found this in the closet. I wasn’t snooping, honestly. I was looking for something and I thought it might be in your room, and...” Max trails off, pushing the carry-on bag off his lap.

“I... I guess I just threw some stuff in there and forgot about it,” Rick says, focusing intently on the socks.

[[]]

-

Max stretches out a hand slowly toward Rick and lets his fingers come to rest lightly on Rick’s bare arm. They both look down at his hand on Rick’s arm, and Rick studies the way his fingers lay across his skin. It’s a simple touch, nothing special, nothing much at all, but Rick suddenly craves _more_. He covers Max’s hand with his and holds it in place. If Max tries to pull back, Rick won’t let go.

“Rick?” Max sounds worried, voice hitching up slightly at the end.

“What?” Rick presses his hand against Max’s.

“Are you...” He trails off.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Rick says. “Just—don’t let go.”

“I won’t,” he says. 

Rick can hear the weight of promise in his voice. He looks at him. Max is looking right back, unwavering. Neither of them move for what seems like the longest time.

“Okay. Good.” Rick finally slips his hand away from Max’s, but he doesn’t pull away. His skin is warm against Rick’s, and it’s nice to be held onto, anchored to a place, to a person.

When Rick looks at him, Max is looking right back, eyes uncertain, hopeful.

[[]]

-

After they start fucking again, they get a little careless. They don’t always play it safe with condoms because sometimes they’re both just too impatient and, well. Rick’s fairly certain he doesn’t have quite the right plumbing to be getting knocked up anyway. Sometimes the nightstand, where Max keeps a steady supply of condoms, is too far away. Sometimes Rick can’t get to his wallet, where he keeps a single, foil-wrapped condom _just in case_.

How it starts is they’re both a little tipsy on expensive red wine—they’d gone to some Tigers wives’ charity dinner party to save the rain forests or something—and they fall into bed, half-clothed and embarrassingly desperate. Rick, with his skirt bunched up around his waist, and Max with his shirt rucked out of his belt and his slacks twisted around one leg, crawling over one another, hands groping.

Rick’s vaguely aware of Max’s hands on his hips, one of his thumbs rubbing over the curve of Rick’s hipbone, mouth sliding down the side of his neck. Rick reaches out blindly, grabs a handful of Max’s shirt and pulls until he’s on top of Rick. Max grinds his hard-on against Rick’s bare thigh, and Rick slides his hands down Max’s back to cup and squeeze his ass in his hands. Max rumbles his approval against Rick’s throat and Rick does it again, arching his own hips up, rubbing against Max’s cock through the soft, silky material of his boxers. 

Max breaks away long enough to latch his mouth onto Rick’s neck, by his jawline, and then he slides a hand down Rick’s abdomen, under the waistband of his underwear. Max rubs the pad of his thumb in slow circles over Rick’s clit and continues to mouth at his neck, finds Rick’s pulse with his teeth.

Rick closes his eyes and tips his head back, and hisses out a breath between his teeth when Max bites down gently. Then he slicks a finger inside Rick and then another, and he starts pumping them, thumb still bumping against Rick’s clit. Rick pushes his hips against Max’s hand greedily, but Max pushes him back down and continues to slide his fingers in and out in a maddeningly slow rhythm that makes Rick just want him to go even harder, faster. 

Rick feels the pressure start to build low in his belly and he reaches down, wraps a hand around Max’s wrist, fingernails biting lightly into his skin. “C’mon,” he says, breathlessly, but he doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

Rick feels Max grin against his neck. He pauses, pulling his hand back, leaving a streak of wetness on the inside of Rick’s thigh. “What’s that?”

“I want you to fuck me,” Rick says, surprising himself with his ability to be coherent.

“Alright, hold on.” Max groans and pulls away, leaning back to open the nightstand drawer and fumble around for the condoms. He pulls the box out and drops it on the bed next to Rick.

Rick picks it up and his eyes catch on the small print. “These are expired. What the fuck?”

“What? Oh,” Max says, furrowing his brow. “I guess I didn’t notice.”

“You’ve been fucking chicks with expired condoms?” Rick wrinkles his nose and isn’t sure whether to feel sympathetic or disgusted.

“Um, not really.” Max snatches the box away and examines the expiration date. “I haven’t exactly been getting a lot of action.”

Rick sits up slowly. “You haven’t been with anyone?”

Max rattles the box at Rick like a maraca. “Not since these expired.”

Rick crosses his arms under his breasts, which still sounds weird in his head. “Really?”

“I was kind of preoccupied.” Max doesn’t elaborate on that, just shuffles closer to Rick on the bed. “We could... I could run out and buy some more...”

“I haven’t been with anyone else since the last time with you,” Rick says quickly. “And I’m not exactly worried about getting pregnant.” Rick pats himself on his midsection where he imagines reproductive organs might be, if he was a real woman and not just inhabiting a female body at the moment. Or for however long the universe deemed necessary.

Max reaches out, lets his fingers drift over Rick’s on his stomach. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Rick looks at him, searches his eyes for something, maybe a hint of doubt. He’s not really sure what he’s looking for.

“Yeah,” Max says. His eyes flicker, briefly, but it’s gone so quickly Rick wonders if he’d imagined it. Max slides a hand up, over Rick’s hip, letting his fingers tangle in the soft material of the skirt.

Rick leans forward and covers Max’s his mouth with his own, cupping the back of his head in his hands, lacing his fingers loosely through Max’s dark blond hair. Max’s hands tighten on his hips and pull him closer.

Rick pushes Max on his back against the mattress, into a pile of pillows, and straddles his hips. He leans down and kisses him again, and Max digs his fingers into Rick’s back, squirming a bit underneath him.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


End file.
